Find My Own Way
by The Fayt In Purple
Summary: Things are not always what they seem. In the end, no matter what, you have to find your own way...a story of finding yourself even when the odds are against you, inspired by the music of RENT, Wicked, Evanesence, the Veronicas, and many more...


Prologue

Ginny was escaping. It was just towards the end of the first month of her sixth year; it had been the longest few weeks she could remember. She had been sitting in the commons when the walls just seemed to close in, and the normally welcoming room had suddenly grown claustrophobic. The whole castle was too small to hold her today, and so she was escaping to the grounds, away from the people and the life inside.

Things had changed, that past summer. Harry had defeated Voldemort. Ginny had known he would, and though she had been surprised when at the beginning of the summer it had become clear that it would all be over, one way or the other, before the new school year, she had accepted the fact very easily. Far too easily, part of her said, but then there were reasons that were her own.

Harry had come alive since that showdown in late July. He was free of the chains of destiny, free to live his life without some greater plan guiding his course. At his birthday celebrations, he had made it clear that he would like to spend at least some of it with Ginny. Now at school, away from her parents and much older brothers, he had been openly pursuing her, leaving no one in doubt that he wanted more than friendship with the Weasley girl.

He had been part of why the walls seemed to shrink indoors. Whenever she turned around, he was there, staring at her if he was at a distance and finding a way to touch her if her was close. She knew what was expected, knew what she would likely do if he confronted her directly, never mind her real feelings on the matter. She knew what she needed to do. But despite years of reigning her emotions in, until nothing was impulse and she had near perfect control, she felt that old, familiar fire building up inside her, raging against her acquiescence to the situation, against the latest concession she was about to make. No matter how many times she told herself it wasn't important, that there was no point in fighting her own destiny, any part of it, that fiery part of her made her feel things she was trying to forget she could feel.

So she had run, away from her choices, letting the chilly air calm her mind and the hint of rain on the wind douse the flames in her soul.

She rounded a tree, and met an unexpected sight. Draco Malfoy turned at her nearly soundless approach, tearing his eyes away from the dark gray clouds above them. For a moment, time seemed to stop as they stared at each other wordlessly. They could have been the only two people in the entire world, and for that instant all their problems faded as if they no longer existed.

His normally perfect hair was ruffled and mussed by the wind; his eyes had darkened to match the sky behind him. Her own hair was coming loose of its already haphazard braid, little pieces of fire flying around her face.

Draco had a moment to wonder at the blank look in her eyes, so different than any expression he ever would have thought to see there. He was trying to place where he had seen such a look before, when a tiny shudder ran through him, signaling what was about to come. He braced himself, not about to show weakness before a Weasley; he nearly lost control, however, when he saw the new expression in the girl's eyes.

There was panic, and then pain. His body tensed at the pain that lanced through his arm; it was rather bad this time, and it took all of his control not to cry out from it. He very nearly forgot to hold in his pain when his eyes landed back on the Weaslette, and he saw her back against the tree, convulsing lightly. The pain and the surprise slowed his normally quick mind, but the next time the pain flared he felt it in his arm, and saw her jerk just a little harder in time with it. And he knew. He had no clue how, but he knew that Ginny Weasely, somehow, had managed to have been marked by the Dark Lord, and was paying the same price all of those who bore such a mark were now facing. And if her reaction to the pain was any measure, her price was higher than anyone's.


End file.
